


it's hard to hold a shape; through glass so dimly lit

by bchekov



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), dirk not being great at handling todd's attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bchekov/pseuds/bchekov
Summary: “todd?” he hears someone call. the wordyellowcomes to mind. “todd!” his chest is aching. there’s a weight on it that keeps getting heavier.





	it's hard to hold a shape; through glass so dimly lit

**Author's Note:**

> it's 2:30 am and i'm too tired to read it through again so please forgive any misspelling or grammatical error

the words on the screen won’t focus properly. it’s as if he’s watching them through a fogged up camera; _watching_ ; he can’t read what they say, only stare at them and hope they start meaning something. his head hurts and there’s a biting cry in the back of his mind. the words are fuzzy. he wonders if it belongs to the woman singing through his speakers or himself. he doesn’t reach a clear conclusion. it feels like he’s losing his mind. his thoughts are going faster by the beat and he almost tears out his hair. someone is hyperventilating. the woman? it sounds closer than the exasperated guitar. a little too close. it makes his ears ring.

“todd?” he hears someone call. the word _yellow_ comes to mind. “todd!” his chest is aching. there’s a weight on it that keeps getting heavier. there are hands on him and they burn. the woman cries out again in time with him. he curls in on himself to escape her and the hands. it doesn’t work.

“todd, look at me; todd!” he recognises his name. he tries to get his mouth to reply but it’s too busy yelling with the woman. it burns so much. he briefly wonders if she is too. “farah, i think he’s having an attack!”

another voice joins. “shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” it says, almost to the beat. something cool is thrust into his hand and it burns too. not in the same way the hands are, but it still hurts _so much_. he hurls it across the room. another “shit,” is heard.

“there’s no way- we have to, i mean. he obviously _can’t_ take them himself. I, we gotta do something. i, i...” the hands leave him and the places they touched are ablaze. he thinks he’s crying. the woman sounds like she is too. and the man…?

someone wraps their arms around him and his back is flush against them. it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. something cool and slightly damp is pressed into his hand again. this time he realises it’s water. his pills are placed in his other hand. he all but violently fling them into his mouth before he chugs as much water as possible before he almost drowns. or so it feels like. as his breathing is becoming something at least akin to regular, (at some point he realised he was the one hyperventilating), the pain eases and he can clearly hear the song switch to a much calmer one, with a gentle guitar and slow drums; he recognizes the song. it’s about suicide, he thinks, but the words are warped in simple descriptions of someone. he lets go of the glass and it breaks at it hits the ground. he didn’t mean to break it.

his head hurts. “... todd,” the person holding him says quietly. it sounds like wind feels. dirk, he realises. he turns around slowly in his arms to face him.

“dirk?” he responds. his body feels heavy but he tries his best to pat dirk’s arm. it falls back to his side after one, two pats. dirk nods with a tight expression on his face. there are tears in his eyes. he looks like todd feels; exhausted.

“todd, how are you feeling?” farah kneels next to him. she also looks tired.

he raises his eyebrows. “just peachy,” he replies. it brings a relieved smile to her face. she puts a hand on his shoulder and lets it linger there for a moment before she stands up.  
“i’ll clean up the broken glass.” she announces and leaves the room. todd feels guilty but even his body didn’t feel like lead he doesn’t think dirk would let him go just yet. the clutch around his torso has slacked considerably and during his exchange with farah he had buried his face in todd’s neck. had it been other circumstances he would have found it very endearing. he musters up what energy he has left and brings his arms around shaking shoulders.

“it’s okay. i’m okay. it was just an attack. i’m fine now,” he murmurs and leans his cheek against soft hair. “i’m okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know about you guys but panic attacks always completely drain me. i can't imagine how exhausting having a pararibulitis attack wound be on top of that
> 
> songs refrenced: jane cum by japanese breakfast, and i want to drown in snow by tyler burkheart. title is taken from the latter


End file.
